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Eridians don't have nightmares. That's something that Grace knows for a fact. When Grace had first woken up from one on the Hail Mary under Rocky's watch, he'd spent a long time explaining what they were, and why they might happen – but only after reassuring a distressed Rocky that, no, he wasn't dying or in pain, no he wasn't lying about that fact, and yes the screaming had been involuntary, and not in reaction to something real or tangible.
So, he knows that this can't be an eridian version of a nightmare, or a night terror, or anything like that, because Rocky had explained that these don't exist for eridians. It just seems to have the same effects as one from the point of view of a human.
Knowing all of this doesn't make the screeching any less intimidating.
It had started what must have been only a few moments ago, but feels like much longer from Grace's perspective. He'd been sitting at his computer when he'd seen movement in the corner of his eye, just the twitch of a limb, and had gotten up to greet Rocky as he came out of his rest cycle.
Before he had managed to get close to Rocky, however, the eridian had started screaming. It's not a sound that Grace had ever wanted to experience again.
"Rocky!" Grace calls out again over the din, despite the fact that trying to get Rocky's attention had only made the screeching worse the first time he'd done so. "It's okay, I'm here!"
Predictably, Rocky doesn't calm down at this. Instead, he scuttles backwards, something that makes Grace himself startle a little in turn. Until that point Rocky hadn't moved at all outside of the initial twitch of a leg, fitting the 'nightmare' comparison even more. With the xenonite between them Grace can't do anything to try and provide physical comfort to his friend, or even inspect him more closely to see if there was something physically wrong with him. All he can do is watch as Rocky slinks backwards down the tunnel, the screeching turning into nervous chittering.
Suddenly, there is silence, which is almost worse than the sounds of distress.
"...Rocky?" Grace tentatively calls out, placing a hand against the xenonite tunnels.
He doesn't get a response, but he can see Rocky shudder slightly – one of the few shared mannerisms between humans and eridians – at the motion. He seems to shrink away from Grace, and Grace hasn't seen an eridian cower before, but he can imagine that this is what that looks like.
"What…" Rocky whistles out, almost too quietly for Grace to pick up on. "What… Where…"
He can't seem to get the chords out for a full sentence. Grace doesn't think he has ever heard Rocky sounding anything less than purposeful in his notes. This doesn't even sound like the more complex eridian sentence structures that Rocky had been occasionally sharing with him. It just sounds muddled. Confused.
Grace doesn't get the chance to ask Rocky anything in return before Rocky is shuddering again, jumping to his feet– and then slumping, and freezing perfectly in place.
For a few long moments, Grace just stands there and waits. Rocky had collapsed mid-step, and now isn't even making attempts at notes as he had been doing before that point. The change is uncanny, but it is also a familiar one, because it is something that Grace has witnessed the couple of times Rocky had let a project get away from him and had fallen into his paralysis-state for rest without first pausing his work.
Sleep both makes sense and doesn't. On the one hand, Rocky had only just woken up a few minutes ago, before all of the screeching and confusion. On the other, there had been all the screeching and confusion, and that wasn't normal.
Either way, Grace has no way of knowing what might be happening to his friend. Worse, he doesn't even know how he might help him. All he can do is wait, and watch.
—
Not knowing how long Rocky might sleep for sets Grace on edge. Not knowing if Rocky is even sleeping at all also sets Grace on edge. So predictably, when Grace finally caves and goes to grab his laptop, wanting to trawl through every set of notes he'd made on eridian biology for any vague hint of an answer, that's when Rocky taps on the xenonite behind him – and Grace jumps out of his skin.
"Rocky!" he cries, joy and admonishment warring in his voice. "Don't do that– wait, no, ignore me, are you okay?!"
Rocky taps the xenonite again in confusion. "Rocky is well. Is Grace well? Heart organ go fast, many signs of distress, bad bad bad. What Grace do when Rocky is sleeping, question?"
After all that, Rocky's grilling Grace?
"What Grace do?" Grace repeats. "More like, 'what Rocky do'! Rocky, not-many-seconds ago you woke up and started screaming! Then you went back to sleep, and woke up normal!"
"Rocky make distress sounds, question? Grace certain, question?"
"Yes! Do you think I'd make this up?"
"Oh." The response is so underwhelming, Grace once again finds himself wishing he could actually interact with his friend. Not for a hug this time, though, not now that Rocky seems to be okay again. No, Grace is filled with the urge to pick up his friend and shake him. Had this all been some kind of prank gone wrong? It doesn't feel like something Rocky would do, but then there are still times when he really does seem alien to Grace in how he acts and the conclusions he comes to. Perhaps this is one such occasion, and Grace needs to have a serious discussion with him about pranks that are funny and okay, and nasty tricks that genuinely scare the heck out of people.
Before he can vocalise this, Rocky is waving a claw at him. "Yes, yes, Rocky understand now. Rocky know of condition. Rare rare eridian condition. Worker cells for crystalline neuropathways not function correctly when initialising wake up, results in imperfect memory recall. Is interesting! Very unusual for eridians to experience. Random bad luck, not happen to Rocky before. Only hear of it from friend of friend of friend. Occasionally, hear about it in stories on radio broadcasts."
"Memory recall?" Grace repeats when Rocky is finished with his explanation, latching onto the most important bit. "Like, you forget things? I thought that couldn't happen."
"Not permanent. Shorter rest cycle is quickly initiated again to fix the problem. Understand? All is normal, now. Rocky is well."
Grace mulls the concept over. "...I suppose you were acting like an eridian might if they suddenly found themself on an unfamiliar ship in the presence of a creature with its insides on the outside. From your point of view, I mean." He's quick to correct himself, given that Rocky is liable to hold any concession over his head on the 'leaky space blob vs scary space spider' front, even in times of distress.
At his comment, Rocky laughs. Grace, with the sound of his friend's screeches still echoing in his mind, huffs in irritation. "I want to go back to something you said a second ago there, Rocky, buddy, because there is no part of this that is 'interesting'. That was scary! Very very very bad! And this was something you knew about, but didn't warn me might happen? Not cool!"
Rocky honks, arcing upwards in indignation. "Grace knew nightmares could happen and did not say. Grace knew sleepwalking could happen and did not say! Grace knew–"
"Okay!" Grace cuts him off, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay! I get the picture."
"I give no picture. Only facts."
At that, Grace manages a smile. Then, sighs. "I mean, I understand what you mean. And I think I owe you another apology for all that sleepwalking and nightmare stuff you had to deal with, and-will-probably-deal-with-again-" he says the last part very quickly, and continues before Rocky can do more than hiss at him in response- "because, man, that was rough! I'm just glad you're okay. When you started screaming, I thought… well."
Although the sentence loses itself near the end, Rocky still tilts his carapace in acknowledgement.
"Grace think many things," Rocky chimes. "Only important thing for Grace to think is that all is okay now. Rocky here. Grace here. Conclusion: all will be well."
Rocky says it like it's a fact, and Grace finds it easy to believe him.